can it be so?

It was overcast yesterday morning with dark clouds in the distance so I took advantage of it and worked out in the yard some. I cleared out the long gone by rocket larkspur that had gone to seed months ago from two small areas. I trimmed the water sprouts off some of the crepe myrtles and one of the tallows.

My neighbor Frank of the Bountiful Garden saw me and came over with a shirt full of okra he had just picked. It's the only thing left in his garden now. Everything else has been pulled up to prepare it for the fall planting.

After I finished trimming the crepe myrtles and clearing out all the small raintrees from under the cedar, I tackled my own garden pulling out the spent tomato plants, freeing the cages and storing them away til next spring. We had planted some Roma tomatoes this year and they were a huge disappointment. They grew overly large but were dry and green inside. We finally quit picking them, letting the stink bugs have them while they rotted on the vines so it was a pretty squishy affair.

A loud clap of thunder announced the impending rain that was moving in my direction so I finished up and came inside totally drenched and not from the rain which hadn't started yet. Sweat just rolls off me now post-menopause.

Later, in the early evening after the rain had stopped I strolled around outside. Two wet bedraggled looking mississippi kites were perched on the high wire drying off. The one on the left had been holding it's wings out.

This golden orb weaver was clinging to her battered web.

The retreating storm gave us a beautiful sunset.

I liked the way the light reflected off the metal siding of the shop.

This morning, I went around and saw the spider had repaired her web.

Last week, my friend Reya over in Washington DC posted about feeling a hint of fall in the air, a notion at which I scoffed heartily. But you know, out there this morning, I think I felt it too.

Just the tiniest, barest hint.